


Going Home

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Drunk Tony, Exes, M/M, Misunderstandings, Uber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Tony's wasted and he's getting a bit tired at the party so he orders an Uber and heads home.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 561





	Going Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [willidothefandango (nagth)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagth/gifts).



> Thanks to fan for the prompt! They dropped [this](https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2020-03/11/17/asset/18deda50b498/sub-buzz-1272-1583947544-1.jpg?downsize=600:*&output-format=auto&output-quality=auto) in chat and I couldn't say no!
> 
> Thanks to ashy for beta <3

Rhodey  
  
**Today** 2:39 AM  
**Rhodey:** Where are you?  
  
**Tony:** I left early.  
  
**Tony:** Sorry I couldn't stay longer :(  
  
**Rhodey:** wtf where are you going  
  
**Tony:** I'm going home  
  
**Rhodey:** are you kidding me come back  
  
**Rhodey:** you're drunk  
  
**Tony:** don't worry I called an uber  
  
**Rhodey:** we drank at our place  
  
**Tony:** oh  
  
**Tony:** where am I going?  
  


Three dots appeared on Rhodey's side of the conversation, and Tony watched them, fascinated. Then his screen went blank. He pushed the button on the side. Nothing. Oops. He tipped over sideways on the bench seat in the back of the Uber. He tried to summon concern about where he was going to end up, but his head was swimming in a haze of vodka and rum. 

"You alright back there?" came a voice from the front seat, and Tony laughed.

"Faaan-tastic!" He pushed himself up to sitting, but his hand slipped and he went down again.

"Don't throw up back there."

"It's okay," Tony assured him. "I love your car."

"Alright, buddy."

Some indeterminate number of minutes later, the rocking of the car stopped, and Tony pushed himself up to look out the window. "Oh. I live here," he slurred.

"That's good. I think it's bedtime for you. Hop on out."

"Thank you!" Tony said, struggling with the door handle. He managed to release it and nearly tumbled out onto the ground but caught himself at the last moment. He giggled. "Have a great night, Uber."

"Goodnight, man."

Tony found his feet on the sidewalk and stumbled to the front door of the apartment building. It was unlocked, which was good cause he had no idea where his keys were. He crawled up the stairs on all fours to 203. He punched the keycode into the lock panel without looking, his forehead braced against the door, and tipped inside.

It was dark, which was weird, cause Tony usually left the light on if he knew he was going out drinking. He slapped his hand against the wall, looking for the lightswitch, but there was fabric in the way. Weird. The hook over the light was where he hung his bag, not a coat. And -

_"What the fuck?"_

Tony startled around and blinked in the sudden light that flooded the room. There was a figure on the other side of the living room. Which was organized all wrong. "Huh?" he asked.

There was a pause. "Tony?"

Tony's eyes finally adjusted. Standing by the bedroom door, in nothing but his boxers and wielding a shoe in one hand, was Steve.

Steve.

"Oh, shit," Tony breathed.

"What in god's name are you doing here? I nearly attacked you. For fuck's sake, Tony." Steve advanced a few steps, peering at Tony intently. "I thought you were a burglar."

"I'm so drink," Tony managed. "Drunk."

Steve let out a long sigh and dropped the shoe. He rubbed his hand over his face. "Christ. You scared the shit out of me."

Tony looked around. The space was familiar but almost everything else about it wasn't. "I don't live here anymore…" 

Steve's jaw twisted tight. "No. No, you don't. I haven't seen you in a few months, actually."

"Fuck." Tony wobbled where he stood. He was rapidly approaching the shitty, green-around-the-gills stage of inebriation. "Fuck."

"Why are you here?"

Tony sat down hard in the middle of the floor. "I got tired at the party and I ordered an Uber. I must have put in this address as my own."

"The party?"

"At Rhodey's." Tony groaned. "Rhodey and I were having a party and I got tired so I left and came home."

There was a rough pause. "You don't live here anymore," Steve said firmly.

"Right. Shit. Sorry." He didn't live here anymore because he and Steve had broken up four months ago, and Tony had let him keep the apartment. He braced a hand on the floor and tried to stand up, but the room spun around him like a merry-go-round. "Shit."

Firm arms caught up Tony's armpits and hauled him up. "Come on," Steve said softly. 

"'ll get an'ther Uber," Tony muttered, clutching to Steve's bare arm to keep him from tumbling down again. Wow. Steve's chest. Long time no grope. Tony tipped his chin up to meet Steve's eyes and they were as bright and clear and penetrating as they ever had been. "Steve."

"Don't be silly," Steve said, but Tony couldn't figure what silly thing he was doing. "You're too wrecked for an Uber. You can sleep it off here."

"Oh." Tony let Steve lead him along towards the couch. He looked over at him again. "You have a beard," he suddenly realized.

Steve kept his eyes facing forward. "Here you go." He lowered him to the edge of the couch, then tipped him back on the cushions.

Tony looked up at him. "You have a beard," he repeated.

"You have jello shot breath," Steve retorted. He swung Tony's legs up onto the couch and tugged a blanket down over them. 

Tony gazed up at him. Even with the beard, he still set something deep and unchanging pounding inside Tony. "I'm sorry," Tony said, and Steve's whole expression shifted, even more unreadable than before.

"Sleep, Tony." Steve stepped away and a moment later the light flicked off. Tony winced his way through a wave of terrible nausea, then, when it passed, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

**

Tony blinked awake what felt like only a few hours later, but there was a hint of dawn light leaking around the curtains. He hauled himself up to sitting, considered throwing up, decided it wasn't worth it, and shuffled into the kitchen instead. He poured himself a glass of water and sipped it slowly. 

Tony glanced towards the bedroom door, but it was closed tight and there was no sound coming from the room. Steve had never been a late sleeper, but it had to be early and Tony had woken him up at a god-awful hour so he could be out for a while. Tony's stomach clenched again but it wasn't because of the alcohol this time. 

God, of all the places his drunk-ass could take him, of course it chose his ex's apartment. Fuck. He should get out and start pretending this had never happened before Steve woke up. Tony dug his phone out from between the couch cushions and found it dead. Right. That was why he couldn't figure out where he was going last night.

Steve used to keep his charger on his desk, so Tony crossed the room to where he'd moved it into the corner in the spot where Tony's bookcase used to stand. There was a charger, and Tony plugged his phone in, but what was next to it caught his eye.

It was a framed photo, one he recognized from five years ago, back in high school before they were really dating, but long after they became each other's whole world. Tony picked it up. It was night time, Coney Island, the lights glittering in the background. It wasn't a particularly flattering photo, with the flash, but Steve's arm was wrapped around Tony's shoulder and he was laughing - they were both laughing - and Tony's hair, longer back then, was a wild mess. He was gazing up at Steve, who was looking back at him. 

Tony ran his thumb along the edge of the frame. Rhodey had taken the picture. He'd said something that made them both laugh - Tony couldn't remember what - and snapped the shot with his phone, then texted it to both of them after. Steve'd had it printed and kept it pinned to the corkboard over his desk at his parents house until two weeks after they'd kissed for the first time, when Tony had given him the frame for Christmas. It was all he could afford.

A soft noise made Tony startle and set the picture down hard. But the bedroom door didn't open. He turned his phone on and left it to boot while he wandered back into the kitchen. 

He opened the fridge, hoping there might be some carb-a-loaded leftovers, or maybe bread he could toast, but there was nothing but a jar of pickles and eleven different takeout containers in varying states of decomposition. He shut the fridge and tried the freezer. Two oven pizzas and six tubs of ice cream.

When he swung the door shut, Steve was standing in the bedroom doorway, watching him. He looked so different with the beard, scruffy and unshaped, that Tony startled, barely recognizing him. "Steve. Jesus." When Steve didn't say anything, Tony nodded towards the fridge. "Handling the break-up well, I see," he quipped.

Tony thought it would make Steve laugh, instead, his frown deepened, brow furrowing between narrowed eyes. "Sure. Bet you're having a grand old time. Partying with Rhodey." He stepped closer, and Tony realized the t-shirt Steve was wearing was one of Tony's that he must have forgotten here.

Tony opened his mouth to snap back then barked out a self-deprecating laugh instead. "Steve, I was so drunk on a Wednesday night that I forgot where I lived. Pretty sure that's the definition of not handling it well." 

Steve eyebrows went up abruptly, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then his expression melted into sadness. He joined Tony in the kitchen and pulled a canister of coffee out of the cupboard. "Yeah. I haven't been handling it very well," he admitted quietly.

"Oh." Tony fiddled with the hem of his sweater. "Sorry."

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Steve rinsed out two mugs and set them side by side on the counter. He braced his hands against the laminate and breathed out a sigh.

"I always picture you having a great time," Tony said in a rush. "You know, living life. Enjoying the extra space here." He cleared his throat. "Dating."

Steve looked up sharply. "No."

Tony waited for more, but none seemed to be forthcoming. "I'm really sorry I came here." Tony took half a step back, out of Steve's orbit. "I didn't mean to disrupt everything and ruin your night's sleep and - shit. I'm sorry." Tony wanted to turn tail and run, but Steve's eyes were fixed on his and he couldn't pull away.

"I miss you…" Steve said. 

Tony's heart pounded in his chest. "I regretted it as soon as I got to Rhodey's," he admitted. "He was so great, letting me move in and not saying a word when I ate nothing but grocery store cake for ten straight days, but I just wanted to be back here with you."

Steve's hand swung out towards Tony then fell back down to his side. "I thought you needed space."

Tony dropped his eyes to the peeling vinyl tile. "I thought you needed to not be stepping over my dirty socks every morning."

Steve winced. "I'm sorry. I said things I really shouldn't have said."

"Me too."

The coffee stopped burbling, and Steve broke eye contact to tip the carafe over each of their mugs. He handed one to Tony. "Sorry. No milk."

"It's okay."

Steve stepped closer until their fingers almost bumped where they both clutched their warm mugs in front of them. "God, it feels good to have you here," he breathed.

Tony stretched his pointer finger away from the warm ceramic and brushed it against Steve's. "I want to come back."

"Come back. Please. I know we have things we need to work out, but we can't do that if we're both hiding from each other."

Tony nodded. "Yeah. I -" He stepped closer, unable to pull his gaze from Steve's. A loud buzzing snapped his gaze over to Steve's desk where his phone was having some kind of fit. "Shit. Rhodey." He shoved his coffee at Steve and ran across the apartment and snatched up his phone.

Rhodey  
  
**Today** 9:22 AM  
**Rhodey:** TONY WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU??  
  
**Rhodey:** I WOKE UP AND YOU WERE STILL GONE  
  
**Rhodey:**????????  
  


Tony tapped out a quick reply, walking back to the couch where Steve had settled with both their mugs. 

Rhodey  
  
**Rhodey:**????????  
  
**Tony:** I'm okay! Sorry, my phone died. I'm fine. Promise.   
  


Tony sat down on the couch, his knee pressed to Steve's. He reached out and ran his thumb across Steve's jaw. "I kinda like the beard."

Steve smiled. He brought his hand up to cover Tony's and pressed his hand flat against his cheek. "It's itchy."

Tony laughed. "I'm good either way."

Steve set his coffee cup down. He kept Tony's hand wrapped in one of his and cupped Tony's cheek with the other. He bent over and pressed his lips to Tony's, softly, sweetly. Tony let his eyes fall shut. 

The phone buzzed in Tony's lap and he pulled away reluctantly, pressing another quick kiss to Steve's lips in apology. 

Rhodey  
  
**Rhodey:** What happened?  
  


Tony grinned down at his phone then turned his face up to Steve's. Steve smiled back at him, his thumb rubbing back and forth across Tony's palm. 

Rhodey  
  
**Tony:** I'm okay, Rhodey.  
  
**Rhodey:** Where are you?  
  


Tony tipped sideways until Steve parted his arms and wrapped them around Tony, drawing him into his lap. They'd sort it out. He'd do whatever was needed to make this work, because life without Steve just didn't make sense. He turned back to his phone and typed out one last message then set his phone aside to curl into Steve.

Rhodey  
  
**Rhodey:** Where are you?  
  
**Tony:** I'm home.  
  



End file.
